The Daughter of Deduction
by Akona
Summary: Christine is a young, 16 year old girl whose mother had just died. She finds herself alone, being that she doesn't exactly have a father. Before her mother's passing, she gave Christine two letters. One addressed to her...and the other addressed to the notorious detective Sherlock Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

**The Daughter of Deduction**

**Chapter 1**

**Rating: T (for language)**

**Hello, people~ I assume you're here because you saw this was a Sherlock fanfiction, and yes this is for the BBC show. This story can also be found on Quotev. It is by my friend, and with her permission I have been allowed to post it on here in a different version. The rating currently does not apply for this chapter. Enjoy!**

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The wind whipped around me angrily as the rain beat down upon my shoulders. It was about 8 o'clock in the evening and there was barely a person on the streets. But, I didn't really care. I had far more important things to worry about. My mother had just died, leaving behind only two letters; one for myself, and one addressed to the detective Sherlock Holmes. I was curious as to why my mother would write him, but I would soon find out.

Before my mother had passed on, she told me that I wasn't allowed to open my letter until I gave Mr. Holmes his. It was strange for her to be writing him in the first place, and then to forbid me from reading the last thing I had from her made the entire situation stranger. I never knew my mother to be one who would get mixed up with detectives.

The wind was picking up when I finally made it to the flat. Entering, I ascended the stairs to find 221B Baker Street. I raised my hand and knocked on the door. I could hear footsteps walking towards it and then it was pulled open.

I was greeted by a tall man with curly dark hair and pale green-blue eyes. "Yes?" he asked in a deep voice.

"Hello, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I need to speak with Sherlock Holmes," I answered, trying to be polite.

"You're currently speaking with him. Now what it is that you need?" he practically demanded.

"I have a letter for you, from my mother. She recently passed away and it was important to her that I deliver it to you," I said and pulled the letter from my pocket. He took it from me, all but yanking it from my hands.

"What is your name?" he asked, once again in his demanding tone as he ripped open the letter.

"Christine," I reply, still remaining polite. For a moment, I see his body tense, but it relaxes as he begins reading the letter. He gets a look of confusion on his face for a few moments as he reads, but then something dawns across his expression, which had been all but empty of emotion. I saw the slightest glint of a tear at the corner of his eye, but it's gone as soon as I see it as he blinked it away. I watched him as he finished reading and slowly looked at me.

"You should come inside," he said, "we have a lot to discuss." He moved back, allowing me to step into the flat. "I understand that your mother also wrote you a letter. You should read it," he said. I nodded, digging it out from my pocket.

With trembling hands, I opened the letter and flattened it out:

_My dearest Christine,_

_As you well know, at this point I have passed on. But you need not worry about me, I am in a better place, I no longer have to suffer. Yet, there is something that I must tell you. Your father is probably sitting in front of you at this point. Yes, he is the detective Sherlock Holmes. The reason why you did not know this is because for the 16 years you have been alive, he has thought you to be dead._

_When I was pregnant with you, I also found out I had cancer. I loved you and your father so dearly that I had to let one of you go. I chose him, because I knew once I had passed on, I could send you to him and he would finally have a little happiness. I caused him so much pain the day I left and the years after that this may be the only way I could make up for it. I know that he probably has never truly healed from the pain I caused._

_I know it is selfish that I kept you, and made you suffer with me, but I knew it would be worse if I stayed with him. You were so strong for me, you kept me strong. I will always love you, even in death._

_Love,_

_Mom_

I stand there for a few minutes, staring down at the letter in absolute shock. I knew my mother's intentions, but they were still cruel. She may have caused more pain than she intended to inflict, but she will always be my mother despite the suffering.

I looked up at my father for a moment and found him watching me with his pale eyes. Before I could say anything to him, two people came through the door.

"Christine, what are you doing here?" my closest friend, Cassie, asked. I watched her in confusion, then saw her uncle standing at her side and the confusion vanished.

"Apparently meeting my father," I answered. Her uncle suddenly collapsed, hitting the ground with a thump, and Cassie simply looks down at him with an annoyed look on her face. "Is he okay?!" I asked, alarmed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father shift to get a better look at Mr. Watson, but he doesn't seem all that concerned.

"Oh, him? He'll be fine, he does that a lot," Cassie replied nonchalantly.

"Okay?" I said, rather confused. I'd known her uncle for a while but never once had I seen him collapse like that. I glanced back at Mr. Holmes, then to Cassie who yawned. "Can I pour water on him?" I asked. The tired look disappeared from Cassie's expression, replaced with a grin.

"'Course you can!" she said. I pulled a bottle of water from my school pack and tip-toed over to Mr. Watson's side. Uncapping it, I tipped it over and poured it all on his face.

"Up!" I said loudly, but he doesn't even stir. From behind me I heard a low, rumbling laugh, which caught me by surprise for a second. I turned, brandishing the bottle, and looked up at Mr. Holmes with eyebrows raised. "Would you like to be next?" I asked, sounding astonishingly similar to my mother. Instantly, his little laugh ceases.

"You sound exactly like your mother," he said.

I nodded, and replied softly, "I realized."

"Hey! You guys have the same eyes!" Cassie burst out suddenly.

"True," I agreed, and can't help but notice that our hair is actually the same as well. "Plus the curly hair," I said out loud, with a small smile.

"This is really strange," Cassie said. I chuckle a little at her reaction.

"Imagine how he feels!" I said, but realize Cassie is distracted by nudging her uncle with her toe. I turned back to Mr. Holmes and asked, "Am I supposed to call you Dad, then?"

"I do not know, I'm new at this," he answered with a small shrug.

"My uncle still hasn't woken up yet!" Cassie announced in irritation. I pulled out an ice cold bottle of water and dump this one on his face. He woke up this time.

"What happened?!" he asked, jolting up.

"You swooned, Mr. Watson," I stated.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding confused. "You're my niece's best friend." It sounded like he was trying to reassure himself that it was me here.

"Correction, she is also Sherlock's daughter," Cassie stated.

"Do you not want me here, Mr. Watson?" I asked, ignoring Cassie's statement for the time being. "If it is an inconvenience for you, I will leave."

"You're not going anywhere," my father said to me. I turned to him.

"Oh, really?" I said, my defiant nature coming forward.

"Ooh, sass, I like it," Cassie commented with a smirk. I ignored her again, focusing on my father who was attempting to look stern and…fatherly.

"Yes, you will stay," he said.

"I'd like to see you try and stop me," I stated, crossing my arms.

"Uncle John, I'm hungry," Cassie interrupted us. "Do you have any food?" She walked over to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. From my spot beside Mr. Watson, who still had not gotten up from the floor, I could see a jar full of eyes.

"Okay, now I'm really leaving!" I said, turning towards the door.

"I swear, those weren't there the last time I was here!" Cassie told me, slowly closing the refrigerator.

"I forgot about those," Mr. Holmes said.

"How'd you even get those?" I asked, knowing this was probably something I would have to deal with. "On second thought," I said a beat later, "I don't want to know." I opened up my school pack and pulled out a bag of crisps, throwing them at Cassie.

"This is why we're best friends!" she said, tearing open the bag.

"There's more stuff in my pack," I said, shrugging it off my shoulder. She snatches it away from me, looking like a child at Christmas.

"I need it all!" she exclaimed and I laughed at her love for food.

"That's why I brought it!" I said, shaking my head slightly.

"What just happened?" my father asked no one in particular.

"Friendship, that's what just happened," I stated with a smile.

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**And done! First chapter completed! Phew!**

**Hope you enjoyed, reviews, favorites, and follows are appreciated!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Daughter of Deduction**

**Chapter 2**

**Rating: T (for language)**

**Welcome back, lovely readers! Ready for the next installment of The Daughter of Deduction?**

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It was around noon when I went to get Cassie, and I knew I was going to pay dearly for waking her. Her mother let me in when I got there and I headed straight to her room.

"Cassie! Get up, it's noon!" I shouted at her, but she didn't stir. Sighing, I did the only thing that seemed to work for waking up a Watson; I poured a bottle of ice cold water on her face. She jerked upwards immediately, clearly not happy based on the heavy scowl on her face.

"What the hell, Christine?!" she growled at me.

"It's noon. You needed to be woken, and my usual methods were not working," I stated.

"It's only noon?! What is wrong with you?! It's too early!" she said, throwing her arm across her face.

"If you get up, I will buy you food," I said, silently praying that it would work. Sure enough, she jolted up out of bed and was throwing on a pair of jeans and a jumper, looking as if I had just reminded her it was Christmas.

"Okay, I'm ready to go!" she said excitedly.

"Cassie, don't you think shoes are a good idea?" I said, taking note of her bare feet. She wiggled her toes and grabbed a random pair sitting around her room, throwing them on. I couldn't help but chuckle at her.

"Where are we going?" she asked me as we left her mom's flat.

"Wherever you want, we just need to talk. Yesterday was truly strange," I said, still processing that everything that happened yesterday actually did take place.

"Did you stay with them last night?" Cassie asked. I shook my head no, and she quirked an eyebrow in a silent question.

"Legally, he isn't my guardian until the court system can prove he is my father, and also proves that he is fit to be my guardian. Seeing as he doesn't exactly have the best track record, it could be difficult for him to get custody. But, they will take into account what I want, being that I'm sixteen I get to decide if I want to stay with him or my grandparents," I told her as we continued walking down the street. We didn't really have a destination, but sometimes that was what happened when we got to talking.

"You're going to tell them you want to stay with him, right?" Cassie asked.

"I don't know. I mean, I just met him yesterday," I answered. "I barely know him, and he barely knows me." I shrugged.

"Chris," Cassie said, using my nickname, "I was talking to my uncle last night and he told me that Mr. Holmes is like a completely different person since he met you. Already he's happier, although he's trying to hide it as much as possible. He's actually making an effort to keep their flat clean!" She snickered, like it was amusing that their flat could be clean. She continued, serious once more, "For the last sixteen years he thought he lost you, so for his sake, please don't make him have to lose you again." She almost sounds like she cares, but it was difficult to tell.

"Cassie, if I didn't know better, I would say you cared about Mr. Holmes," I said with a small chuckle.

"I just want to see you happy, and frankly, your grandparents don't like me," she said. I burst into laughter, remembering the last time I had brought her with me to my grandparents'.

"That's because every time I brought you over there, you pretty much cleaned out their pantry!" I said, and she starts laughing with him. After a few moments, we calmed down, and I added, "Anyways, I said the court would take into account what I want, but they won't necessarily listen. If they think he's an unfit parent, off to my grandparents I go." I shrugged again, seeming indifferent about it even to myself.

"Then it looks like we're going to have to make Mr. Holmes into the best father on the face of this planet!" Cassie said with a glint of determination in her eyes.

"From what I've heard, that will be difficult. He's not one to change his ways all that easily," I said, but deep inside, I hoped he would change.

"Well, I think we could manage to convince him to keep the eyeballs out of the refrigerator," Cassie said, half-jokingly. I laughed a little, but stopped when I saw she was being serious again. "Hopefully, you're important enough to him that he'll change for you," she said, giving my shoulder a light squeeze.

"Yeah," I replied softly, "hopefully I am."

"So, when's your mom's funeral?" Cassie asked me carefully. Her delicate tone told me that she was trying to be sensitive about the topic, and I appreciated that.

"In two days, then I have to spread her ashes in the place where she was happiest." My voice nearly cracked, and my throat choked up.

Sympathy flashed across Cassie's eyes. "If you'd like, my uncle and I could help you. I really don't want you to have to do that alone. You've been through so much already," Cassie said, throwing an arm around my shoulder to give me a side hug.

"That'd be great," I said. "Thank you." I wiped away a tear before it could be noticed.

"Are you going to invite your dad to the funeral?" Cassie asked.

I shrugged. "I think it'd be a bit controversial, don't you? My mother's ex-fiancée, who she hadn't seen in sixteen years, at her funeral? My grandparents would flip and try to hide me from him, so he wouldn't know he's my father, but it's a bit too late for that." I chuckled, and went on, "My granddad never did like him. Called him an arse whenever I asked questions about him.

Cassie laughed. "Well, he wasn't wrong!" I smacked her shoulder and she just laughed more, giving me a playful shove away from her.

"Be nice! That's my father you're talking about!" I said, trying not to laugh myself as we continued on our way.

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We got to the café quickly and I couldn't help but overhear an older couple, sitting by one of the front windows.

"Yes, I saw a young girl leaving his apartment last night!" the woman said.

"The blonde? She's always there, Mr. Watson is her uncle, after all," the man said.

"No, no! A dark-haired girl!" the woman hissed.

"Maybe she needed help with a case, Karen," the man tried to assure her.

"Yes, but what could a young, pretty girl like her need the help of Sherlock Holmes for?" the woman said, her voice steadily rising in octaves as she spoke.

"He's a detective, Karen. She probably needed his help, and anyways it's none of your business, so don't go sticking your nose into it!" the woman's husband said.

"That couple lives across the street," Cassie whispered to me, eyeing them as we sat down at a table. "The woman lives to spy on Mr. Holmes."

I nodded in understanding, shifting so that the couple wouldn't see Cassie practically glaring at them. "Her husband is right, though. She shouldn't go sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. Bad things happen when you do that," I said solemnly, remembering news stories I had read about this kind of stuff.

Cassie shook her head at me. "Sometimes I really hate the fact that you're practically a genius, and can figure out what went wrong when you read those," she said.

I grinned and said, "If you want to blame someone, blame my father! I didn't ask to be like this." I laughed a little.

"Damn that arse," Cassie growled jokingly. We both burst into laughter, a positive note in the formerly negative atmosphere.

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**Phew! Thanks to my friend for getting this chapter written up and sent to me! She did an amazing job! Hope you guys enjoy!**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Daughter of Deduction**

**Chapter 3**

**Rating: T (for language, just to be safe)**

**Disclaimer: I failed to do this earlier, but I do not own anything that has to do with Sherlock. The character of Christine is not mine, though I guess you could kind of classify the character of Cassie as mine.**

**Anyways, three of you have followed this story and I thank you so much for that! It keeps me going knowing that there are a few of you out there waiting for new chapters to go up!**

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I sat down at my laptop and signed on to Cassie's uncle's blog, almost an hour after I had been with her at the café. I hadn't been on the blog in a while, in light of recent events. Occasionally, Mr. Watson would speak of me when describing Cassie's latest shenanigans, which always involved me. Today when I signed on, though, his topic startled me slightly.

"**I have news!**" the title read in bold lettering. Slowly, I scrolled down to find out what exactly was so exciting:

**I'm sure you all remember the stories I've told about my niece and her close friend, Christine, and how I've mentioned Christine is so much like my flat mate Sherlock. The strangest of news came forward after Christine's mother passed on. Christine showed up at our flat with a letter for Sherlock from her mother. As it turned out, she is in fact Sherlock's daughter!**

**According to Sherlock, her mother informed him she had miscarried and lost the baby so he would not have to watch her slowly die. Her intentions were good, I guess, but not necessarily well thought out. Christine had to suffer along with her mother.**

**I apologize because I am sure you were expecting a longer update, but the funeral for Christine's late mother is tomorrow, and I thought it'd be best if Christine had as much support as possible.**

**My condolences go out to her and her family.**

I stared at the blog for a few seconds, trying to blink away the tears that had formed. Mom was gone, and what made it worse was that I wasn't there to say goodbye. This blog had only served to remind me of that. I remembered being called to the headmaster's office after her passing. Everyone was treating me so delicately as they told me. My heart felt as though it had shattered, a sensation I hadn't ever felt before.

I shook myself of those thoughts, knowing it would do me no good to dwell. I got up, away from my laptop,, and dug through my school pack to find my mobile phone. To my dismay it wasn't there. Curious as to where I left it, I exited my room to go search for it. I walked out into the hall and saw my mother's door was ajar. For some reason I couldn't bring myself to close it; I wasn't ready to go near it just yet.

I continued my search and eventually found my mobile in my pantry. Shaking my head and chuckling, I grabbed it and returned to my room. I kicked my feet up on my desk and happened to glance at my shelves. They were full of miscellaneous things, but at the corner of the top left one, I saw my teddy. I smiled a little as I looked at it, knowing now that it was from my father. It may seem childish but whenever I sleep or have a bad day, the teddy is on my bed. It was like my last, and only, connection to my father. Now, it was reversed. It has become the fondest memory I have of my mother.

I jumped a little, startled by my mobile suddenly vibrating in my hand. Quickly, I flicked on the device to find a text message from Cassie.

_You need to get to your father's flat quickly, something's going on between him and my uncle. Mrs. Hudson won't let me up._

I stared at the text message, rereading it a couple times before it dawned on me that it might be an emergency. I shot up from my chair, shoved my feet into the first pair of shoes I saw, and took off out the door, heading toward Baker Street.

I arrived there in about fifteen minutes, my mind racing. I let myself in and headed for the stairs, towards the sound of slightly raised voices. Outside 221B, I found Mrs. Hudson and Cassie.

"What's going on?" I asked, really alarmed.

"Sherlock is going on and on about a funeral that he wasn't invited to," Mrs. Hudson whispered to me, and I nodded in understanding. I knew what she was talking about already.

"I can solve this easily," I stated. I raised my hand and knocked on the door.

I heard two sets of footsteps rush towards the door, followed by the voices. The door was yanked open harshly, revealing my father who looked clearly irritated.

"Yes?" he demanded, not even taking a second to notice who it was.

"Hi, I heard raised voices and got worried. Is everything okay?" I asked, playing it off as if I had no idea what was going on.

"Everything is fine, mostly. I was just discussing with John the arrangement for your mother's funeral, which I will be attending," my father said.

"No, you will not," I said immediately. "I want to give my mother a proper send off. If you come it'll only tick my grandfather off. So, please, let me do this the right way! You're more than welcome to come to spread the ashes. Just please, don't come to the funeral." He opened his mouth to speak, but I rushed to continue, "If you won't do it for me, at least do it for my mom. I know you have no reason to care about her after what she did, but she never stopped loving you." I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "I never knew what it was about, but she did cry on occasion about something she refused to talk about."

For just a second, I thought I saw the glint of a tear in his eye. All too quickly, it's blinked away, leaving me to wonder if it was just my imagination.

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**Well? What do you think? Review, favorite, follow!**

**I literally edited this while I was listening to the Game of Thrones theme. I'm such a nerd.**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Daughter of Deduction**

**Chapter 4**

**Rating: T (for language, just to be safe)**

**Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, blah-blah-blah, Christine isn't either, Cassie kinda is.**

**Thanks for seven follows, two faves, and one review! It's more than I could have asked for, and I know my friend appreciates it so much that you guys have followed/faved/reviewed her story!**

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An awkward silence hung in the air after their argument. I wanted to leave, but it was raining again, so my father wouldn't let me go. We all sat there in the flat, no one saying a word. Cassie had finally been let in and was still grumbling about being forced to wait outside. John had given up trying to get her to understand that she would only have made it worse; arguments always tended to get worse when Cassie became involved.

Then she clapped her hands together, sitting up in her seat. "You need to get rid of those eyeballs, Mr. Holmes," she declared. "And, by the way, we're going to make you into the best father on the face of the planet!" she added triumphantly.

"Why?" he asked, sounding slightly confused.

"Because if you want to keep custody of your _lovely_ daughter, you will let us. If not, you can say goodbye now, and off to her grandparents she goes!" Cassie said to him, and something that looked like fear flashed across his eyes.

"Right, I'll get rid of them," he said, then looked out the window. "It looks like the rain has stopped. Christine," he added to me, "I think you should be heading home. I understand that a neighbor is looking after you. We don't want them to get alarmed." I nodded and, after a few quick goodbyes and a whispered promise from Cassie that she would start whipping my father into shape, I left.

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About twenty minutes later I arrived at my house and tromped upstairs to my room, once again noticing my mother's door was open. This time, I walked towards it and entered.

"Okay, I'm sure you left some sort of clue as to where you were happiest," I whispered to myself. I walked towards her closet and threw open the door. I was hit by the scent of her favorite perfume, and I stopped dead in my tracks as it hit me once again that she wasn't here anymore.

I forced myself forward, deeper into the closet. I reached the back, where her boxes of photos were. Things I wasn't ever allowed to touch. I opened one of the dusty boxes, almost feeling guilty for doing this, but I moved forward. I lifted a small photo book from the box and opened it. The first picture was of my mom, smiling happily. Gently I took it from the book and lay it aside. It'd be a nice photo to have at the funeral.

I turned the page, and this time found a picture of my mother and father. My father was actually smiling and I couldn't help but smile myself. I continued flipping through the book slowly, stopping at pictures every once in a while. I got to the last page and found a picture of my parents again, this time when my mom was pregnant. They were both glowing, perfectly content. I ripped the photo from the book and, knowing my mother always liked to document what each photo was for, turned it over.

**First family photo.**

I smiled a little, a tear rolling down my cheek. I got to my feet and dug through one of the boxes to find an empty frame. Quickly, I put the picture in the frame, thinking that my father would like to have it. _Even though he may not feel for my mother…_I thought, but shook the thought aside. It's the only picture of us as a family, except, I'm still in the womb. Close enough.

I quickly collected the pictures for the funeral, and left my mother's room, closing the door behind me. I retreated off to my room, pulling out a box and some tissue paper. I stuffed the tissue paper inside the box, then the framed picture. I closed the box, then went hunting for some wrapping paper.

I found it in the downstairs closet with some ribbon. I stared at it for a moment, contemplating. Shrugging, I grabbed it and took it with me to my room. I set to work wrapping the box nicely.

When I finished, I took a step back to admire my work, and I decided tonight would be a great time to give it to him. It would hurt too much tomorrow.

I grabbed the box and my jacket and headed out the door towards Baker Street.

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When I arrived there, I knocked on the door. I heard footsteps come towards it and then Cassie opened the door.

"Hey, Christine," she said, sounding tired as usual.

"Hi, I just have something for Mr. Holmes," I said, trying to hide a smile, "but I don't want to be here when he gets it. I'm not sure how he'll take it." I shoved the wrapped box into her hands.

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**Ooh, cliffhanger. I love a cliffhanger (but only when I'm the writer!) and right now a cliffhanger is no good for me! But, I'll just have to wait until my friend sends me the next chapter.**

**Follow/favorite/review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Daughter of Deduction**

**Chapter 5**

**Rating: T (for language, always to be safe, people)**

**Disclaimer: I called the Queen of England, she told me she's sorry to say that I don't own Sherlock (and never will, she added). Also, she told me that Christine isn't mine but at least I have the pleasure of (somewhat) owning Cassie.**

**4 faves, 8 follows, 1 review? Not too shabby, if I say so myself.**

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I stood in between Cassie and my grandparents as the priest droned on about my mother's life. I was trying my hardest not to cry. I was staring at the silvery white urn, lost in my own thoughts, when I heard a collective gasp, followed by Cassie hissing "Shit" under her breath.

"What are you doing here?" my grandfather demanded, and my head snapped up at his words. Across the way I saw my father.

"I'm here to pay my respects," he said, acting as if I wasn't there. Suddenly I'm shoved behind my grandmother, and I saw Cassie throw me a helpless look.

"You are not welcome here, Sherlock Holmes! Go, so I can lay my daughter to rest and console my grandchild!" my grandfather said. Then his body tensed, as if he were remembering it was no secret that Mom never moved on. All of my relatives looked to my grandfather, panicked, and then I stepped forward, tears streaming down my face despite my effort to hold them back.

"Christine, what are you doing?" my grandfather hissed at me. I just shook my head and pushed past everyone, ignoring Cassie as she called my name. The one thing I wanted was to give my mom a proper send off, and even that couldn't happen. I had walked far enough away that people would get the message that I wanted to be alone, but I could still hear it when my granddad blew up.

"Do you see what you have done?! You have made things worse for her than they already were! What made you think that it would even be slightly appropriate for you to show up?! You never even spoke to her again! Now you have ruined my daughter's funeral! I do hope you are pleased with yourself, Mr. Holmes," he said, his voice holding a very nasty tone.

"Is it so wrong for me wanting to attend my ex-fiancée's funeral? We did almost share a life and almost have a child together," Mr. Holmes said, and at that time I chose to walk back.

"Yes, it is wrong. Especially after I asked you not to show up!" I seethed. My grandfather and father both fell silent, staring at me as they knew I had more to say. I went on, "I wanted to do this right, I wanted to be able to have a little peace knowing that I did this right. But now…I can't because neither of you know how to act like adults! Mr. Holmes-" he visibly flinched at the steely tone I used "-you have such a big ego that you couldn't let go of the fact that someone else has the opportunity to do something for me, when you barely know me. Granddad," I said, turning to him now, "you're so stuck on this idea you have that he abandoned Mom, when that isn't true in the slightest. If either of you are thinking to pass the blame off onto the other, know this. You both are to be blamed equally for ruining this, and I hope you both are pleased with yourselves," I finished, and then once again I pushed past my relatives who stared on in shock. I headed towards the doors of the funeral home, not about to let anyone stop me from leaving.

I successfully made it outside unhindered and started heading towards my home. I got there quickly, and let myself inside heading for the stairs. I stopped myself once I reached the bottom, unable to force myself up them. I retreated off to the couch, curling up underneath a blanket, trying not to let the tears fall. I switched on the television, but only stared at it, not really watching.

"_The famous detective Sherlock Holmes was spotted today, at a funeral home. He appeared to be attending a funeral, the funeral of Natasha Brown. As of right now, we are unsure of why he was there, but not long after his arrival a young girl was seen fleeing the premises,"_ the news presenter said, the television having been set to the news channel already. As I listened to the reporter, the tears I was holding back began flowing rapidly.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered to myself. "I tried to do this right, I really did. I don't know what I did wrong, but I'm sorry that the funeral today was such a disaster."

I sat there in almost total darkness, alternating between crying and sniffling. Then I heard the door open. Immediately I tensed and reached for the nearest object. With my hand grasping the telly remote tightly, I stood ready to face whoever it was. I heard two sets of footsteps coming towards me, and then Cassie appeared, follow by her uncle. Breathing a sigh of relief, I sat back on the couch.

"Hi," I said, my voice sounding raspy from all the crying.

"How are you doing?" Mr. Watson asked delicately.

"As well as I can be, Mr. Watson. Thank you for asking," I replied. I didn't look at either of them, almost as if I were afraid to see the pity that would no doubt be in their expressions.

"Christine, you can call me John, you've known me long enough," he told me, and I nodded robotically.

"It's so dark in here. I nearly thought you had gone somewhere else," Cassie remarked, the first she had spoken.

I shrugged. "I wasn't about to go to 221B or my grandparents'," I said, my tone clearly giving away that I am still very displeased.

"Christine, I understand that you're upset with Sherlock, but he hasn't always had the tightest grasp on how others feel. I think he thought he was doing the right thing by attending. He didn't realize how much trouble he caused until after you had left," John said. I turned to him, still sensitive about the events that had transpired.

"He at least should have had enough respect for my dead mother not to attend. I understand he may not care about her anymore, but that doesn't mean he is allowed to practically crash her funeral!" I said, my voice cracking on the last word as I held back the tears. All the while, I hated the looks of pity I saw on the pair's faces.

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**Well? Not too bad, eh? Sorry for the late update, I got it the day of the last update but I wound up not having the time to post it, and whenever I did I procrastinated and you know the rest. Procrastination. It's a real bitch.**

**Anywho, I posted this in light of the new story I posted, so I was in the writing mood and I knew I had to get this out some time!**

**Hope you enjoyed! Review, fave, follow!**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Daughter of Deduction**

**Chapter 6**

**Rating: T (blah blah blah, I think you know the drill by now)**

**Disclaimer: This time I called BBC and they put me on hold. I've been sitting here waiting for someone to say something. I think I got the message though; I don't own Sherlock or Christine (and I never will, as the Queen already made that very clear) but I do own Cassie in some way, shape, or form. Still haven't decided in what way yet.**

**So this chapter's a little different. It's a flashback. Need I say more?**

**No new faves, follows, or reviews (I posted this really soon after the previous update). Stats remain unchanged.**

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He sat there waiting anxiously for her to return, his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the armrest of his chair. He was unable to wait. Today he would be getting an update on the state of his unborn daughter. Distantly, he could hear the sound of the door unlocked and he swiftly got to his feet. She came through the door, tears flowing down her cheeks as she sobbed silently.

"How'd it go?" he asked her eagerly, seemingly oblivious to her despair.

"Sh-Sherlock, I lost the baby. I had a miscarriage," she said softly, her voice shaking horribly. Not because she had truly lost the baby, but because she had to lie to the man she loved.

"What? How is that possible?! At the last appointment the doctor said she was fine!" He almost yelled, unable to truly believe his daughter was gone.

"Things happen, Sherlock. But…but…I th-think it'd be best if we both saw other people. I can't do this. I can't stay here with you and constantly have reminders of her around." It felt like she was ripping his heart out as she spoke. She continued, "It's better this way. I'm sorry." The pain in his chest worsened, and he could only watch as she retreated off to their bedroom to pack their bags in a short time. He didn't move, not even when she emerged, her eyes dry and red. "Goodbye, Sherlock," she said, and left the flat for the final time.

After her departure, Sherlock found himself sitting in their living room, head in his hands as he began to process what had happened. He himself was unaware of the tears trailing down his cheeks as his body was wracked by silent sobs, his own despair crashing over him like a tidal wave of emotion. He had gone into a state of shock. Everything he had wanted most had been ripped away. His chance at happiness, at love, all gone in the blink of an eye.

Then, almost as if something was ignited in him, he stood and went to the nursery.

Still unaware that he was sobbing, he ripped down the purple letters spelling out his daughter's name, pinned to the wall above a plush crib. In the timespan of a few minutes, the room was destroyed. Everything was ripped to shreds except for a yellow blanket with her name scrawled on it with fine stitching. He stood there momentarily, looking at it blankly. Then a loud, broken sob ripped through his chest as he collapsed to his knees, clutching the blanket to him.

"I will always love you, my angel," he whispered. "Wherever it is you have gone, I will find you one day. You will be in my heart, my most precious gift." His voice cracked on the last word as he buried his face deep into the blanket, body shaking as he silently cried and mourned.

He stayed there for hours, crying in the middle of the wreckage, and other times, rage at himself surged through him. He knew that he had to go on, but he had nothing to live for, nothing to drive him onwards.

Days passed before he finally called her.

"Whatever it is that I did to cause this, I apologize for," he said, his voice thick and raspy.

"Sherlock, this isn't your fault. Our child is gone, you have to let her go," she replied, trying desperately to not burst into tears.

"I…I can't," he said, the thickness gone, now replaced with a broken, defeated tone.

The line went dead as she hung up and a fresh sob ripped its way through him as he realized he had truly lost everything. "I can't let you go," he whispered. "You're my most precious gift, and I will always carry you in my heart."

Then, a week before his would-be wedding, a letter came to him. He was still numb from the pain of losing the two most important things to him, but he ripped it open anyways. Onto the counter fell the engagement ring he had given her. He stared at it momentarily as it sunk in that she was no longer part of his life, and the ring was proof she was severing herself from him. From the envelope, he lifted an image. The last ultrasound image of his daughter. He stared at it even longer than the ring, then gently brought it to his lips.

"I love you," he whispered to the image.

Lastly, he lifted a note from the envelope. It smelled like her mother, sweet and pure. He opened it and flattened it out to better read it. Written there were the last six words she said to him.

_**You have to let her go.**_

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**THE FEELS**

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